I am the guy your mother warned you about. You believe I am only found lurking in the shadows, but I am a master of disguise. I can be anyone, anywhere. I can be the quiet employee in the cubicle down the hall; I can be the cute hunk at the bar. I can be your neighbor. I can be your ex. It really doesn't matter because when I strike I will become the monster of your worse nightmare. You would be horrified to know my demons, my friends, my life. Your pain, my creation, is the fuel for my soul.

I hunger.

My only concern is me. Sometimes I need a quick crack fix, sometimes I only want to dominate; sometimes I just wish to lash out. My needs are supreme, your pain, your sorrow your suffering are nothing. In fact, I glory in the pain I create. There are many of you to choose from.

I hunt.

There are laws against my deeds, but laws are for cowards, too weak to act and think for themselves. Yes, I am above the law, I see no reason for it, and it doesn't apply to me. You take comfort knowing the police are there to serve and protect. Just 3 little digits away - 911 and they come. The police are nothing more than a nuisance, easily avoided. I choose when and where to strike. I choose whom to attack. You will never have time to call. I will not wait for them to arrive. When I strike, 5 minutes become a lifetime, your lifetime. I become a god - I decide what will happen to you. I choose your fate.

I choose you.

You are such an easy prey. You jog alone. You flash your drivers license, giving me your address. You keep late hours, at the office. You have a routine. I know where you are, where you will be, and when you will be there. You make it easy for me. I choose where; I choose when, and you are powerless to stop me. I have infinite patience.

I lay in wait

I see you coming, no one is near, now is the perfect time, you are the perfect victim. I will strike and leave you bruised and bleeding - if you cooperate. If you resist, if you fight, you will die. I have no conscience. Your pain, your life, mean nothing to me. I am impossible to ignore. I will not go away.

I step out.

I see the sudden shock in you eyes; I see the fear. I know I have chosen well. There is more than fear; you find a determination, a burst of courage. So you will resist. You will fight. I know how to deal with the uncooperative. I have come prepared; resistance will only make it worse. My adrenalin starts to flow. I know I will have you, own you.

I come closer.

I see you are scared. I know you are looking for a way out. Aw! but you are brave. You have a slow burning confidence none of my previous victims have had. This excites me. I must teach you that you are powerless against me. I am large; you are small. Your struggle will be futile. I have no reason to wait.

I pick up my pace.

You should turn and flee. You should plead for mercy, for your life. You should search for the help that will never come. Yet you hold your ground. You eyes never leaving mine. You know what I want. I can see it. I've seen it numerous times before. Yet you stand there, waiting for my attack. Why? You just standing, waiting. You know what I am, the predator, you are the prey. You know the rules, but you do no play by them. Suddenly, I am not so sure. My uncertainty boils into a rage.

I lunge.

You shout. I hear nothing, my focus is you, your words are meaningless. From nowhere, from somewhere a gun materializes in your hand. I now understand your strange confidence. You are not the small one. You are not the weak one. I understand why you didn't flee. I know why there was no pleading for mercy. You play by the rules but they are your rules, not mine. You will not be the prey. I am no longer the predator. I know I must stop, I am the one who should flee. I can't let you win. You are mine. I will not turn back. I will not retreat. I have waited to long. I make the rules - not you. I am seething.

I see a flash.

I am slammed to the ground. I must have been struck by lighting, that would explain the flash, the thunder. I try to rise, but my legs refuse to obey. My arms are heavy. My lungs are burning. I grab my chest; I see blood on my hands, on the ground. The blood has to be yours, it can't be mine. I knew I would have you. I knew I would win, my rules-not yours. Why are you standing, why am I on the ground? I am confused. I look up. I see your face. I see your hands. I see your gun. Now I remember - the gun! You, my victim, my prey, you have turned against me. You have shot me.

I try to scream.

I understand. I am dieing. I refuse. I am in charge, I determine fate. It is you, not I who is supposed to lie bruised and bleeding. My tears are powerless. I beg you to help me. Why won't you help me? You can't help me. No one can help me now. Look what you've done! Look at me! My screams are as empty as the screams of victims past. My life's blood is streaming into the ground. Where is your pity, your mercy, I do not deserve this. This is not how it happens. I make the rules. I decide your fate. It was your turn to die, not mine. Please help me... You must help me.... I was the predator....

Today every human being in the open on earth can be photographed, even from a satellite.

This photograph, processed through a neural computer, within minutes will process a printed biography of this person (any person) including all his medical files, financial history including ( e.g. from credit cards) his daily shopping list (type and amount of toilet paper she uses!), tax position and history, his exact whereabouts in his somewhat recent past and present from second to second (if he carries a buzzer or portable phone).

In fact it would be extremely difficult to imagine anything that could not be immediately printed out from any person this way. His telephone and/or internet records will provide a personality profile and relation clusters no psychological testing battery could match.

If these data would, for some reason or other n o t show up in print immediately (say to the average policeman) such a person would immediately be extremely suspect.

<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>I'm always paranoid, upon returning home in the middle of the night and walking into my garage, that some anonymous crazed killer has followed me in and will kill me before I can get into the house. I can never decide what would be better - to leave the door up until i open the house door, or put it down. Because if I close the garage door, he could be trapped inside with me. And if I leave it open, it could give him a greater chance to get inside while I'm unlocking the door. I dunno. maybe I should just try to find my housekeys so I can go in throught the front door.

when the eyes are burning into the back of your head and you turn around and then nothing is there and nobody is walking near you but the feeling is still there and all you can do is!!!.......

NO NO! and there's no one who'll listen to the fear that is within you... and you don't want to go because they don't care but you don't want to stay because they don't care so where do you go when the menacing stares come too close and too close and the evening just ends!

Even when dying in my arms, asking me to put my hand on his brow because he was getting so cold, he looked at the hand full of fear, the way he had recently done many times, wondering if... I...was not holding a gun to execute him...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR> thought I knew what paraniod meant because I have smoked a lot of weed in my days. The funny thing is I experienced a REAL paranoid episode when I wasn't stoned for like the first time in a month. That is why of course but hey, I thought I was going to die. I honest to god KNEW without a doubt in my mind that somwone was going to stab me in the back with a knife and that is how I would die. I was so frightened that I couldn't move and could only write. A wrote a poem and a letter to my friends and family saying everything I would want them to know if I were dead. I was crying and **** because I didn't know what to do. Yell for my parents for them to come and save me, but what if they were already dead or THEY were the ones who were going to kill me. Paranoia is a freaky ****ing thing. I was SHOCKED all to hell when I woke up alive in the morning. Strange experience for ****ing sure <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

***

<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote

Quote:

"Well. What happens when paranoid meets paranoid? A crossing of solipsisms. Clearly. The two patterns create a third: a moire, a new world of flowing shadows, interferences. . .

I will not, however, live a life where I think that each and every time I show my license to get into a bar I am compromising my personal safety.

I will not live a life where I worry about who might see a check I've written and learn my address.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Your choices, obviously. No one is advocating paranoia. The intended audience is/was those who are oblivious... who are living in Condition White.

<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>We do well be to aware in life and not focus too much on the keys in the dark parking lot, but there must be a reasonable balance to paranoia.

Oblivious and paranoia are at two ends of a continuum. Everyone has a right to choose where on that line they live.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

I sincerely doubt that anyone would disagree with this sentiment. The purpose was/is to hopefully nudge those who are living in Condition White into being more aware and learn that living in Condition Yellow is not being paranoid, but simply being cognizant and aware.

<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote

Quote:

I wonder if, from time-time on these forums (when preaching to a choir of people already working on being more aware) we might not be pushing too close to advocating a near-pathology of fear?

Could be... At least you're aware enough and have given it enough thought that you can make that observation. Perhaps someone else isn't... and that's who is the more beneficient recipient of the prose.

It really is a tricky thing to be aware and strategically prepared rather than paranoid. I think hitting this topic over and over again in these forums, especially with the "regular posters" who already seemed knowledgeable, could start to give the impression that we're over the top and into paranoia. Yet, how many lurkers out there who haven't considered the issue. They may benefit, again, not by becoming paranoid but by becoming more aware.

I work at a community center with over 120 staff and we work literally with several thousand folks over the course of a year. A requisite of our jobs -- if we're to truly enjoy what we do -- is that we care and have an interest in people. Most of the staff think the best of folks. Awareness -- never mind paranoia -- is sorely lacking. I don't know how representative we are of the general public but it's scary to see how unaware or in denial these folks are.

If anyone is paranoid, It's me. I guess I earned the right since I get pulled in everytime something happens to a staff or one of our program participant. It takes a lot of emotional and other resources to support a specific person through a mugging, stalking, domestic violence, rape, or even murder of someone close to him/her. It takes a lot to deal with the ripples of fear that go through our community of staff, participants and families. The time spent on going over safety measures/procedures, following up with police and referral resources, assuaging the fear that kicks in is all very time-consuming and disruptive. And then in a matter of months, almost invariably, folks sink back into their mode of denial and condition white until the next incident...

Sometimes I honestly have to admit that I feel a bit "hardened" about adults who become victims. I feel bad for them but there's a piece of me that also feels that they should have taken some more responsibility for their safety, especially when some of the incidents could have been largely or entirely avoided had they been more aware and thinking. It's not right what I feel but it's a "survival" mechanism of sort for me.

But my anger and caring kick in fully again whenever something happens to a younger staff or to kids we work with. A nice, sweet kid/teen in our running club got engaged in a conversation by an older man and he started to follow her with the conversation becoming more suggestive. After a bit of this, her instinct kicked in and she ducked into the center. Fear replaces her innate friendliness and joy in the world. What to do but to go over strategies and mindset that may seem "paranoid" to her. Another young girl got engaged in conversation by an older man by the bus stop. He started showing up daily offering to take her out for ice cream. She couldn't/didn't want to tell her elderly grandma, her sole guardian/family. Finally, she told us. Again, the discussion of strategies and awareness, reporting the man to the police, escorting her from the bus stop to the program and to home. What a terrible thing... to point out the world's ugliness to a ten year old girl. However, what would be more terrible is to deal with the aftermath of an incident. A young teen staff was recently raped by knife point... The damage was done. What to do but to make sure she's gets the support and followup she needs, that her supervisors handle her episodes of PTSD with confidentiality when they occur. What to do...

I wish more of the folks I work and deal with were more aware. Until then, I reserved the right to be a bit "paranoid" (by the definition of some.)

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